


Shake A Leg

by MissBayliss



Series: The Coda Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s12e22 Who We Are, Fever, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Dean Winchester, the coda series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-27 00:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14413842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBayliss/pseuds/MissBayliss
Summary: Coda to episode 12x22 Who We Are. Dean's knee was bad. Really bad.





	Shake A Leg

The three of them stood there in that embrace, so happy to have family, to have somewhere they belonged, to have each other. It was a moment that Sam wished would last forever.   
“Dean?” Sam muttered, feeling his brother dip more towards him, the weight slowly shifting onto him and Mary.   
He felt Dean breathe out a haggard breath against his neck, right before his knee gave out.   
“ _Argh_ ,” Dean groaned, his head dropping, eyes closed.  
Sam and Mary had him around the shoulders.  
“Shh,” Sam felt himself hushing him, “Hey, you’re alright. Mom, grab a chair.”  
Mary let Sam take his weight and shoved a chair behind Dean.   
“Okay, we’re sitting back. One, two, three…”  
Dean groaned, as he dropped unceremoniously into the chair, his leg jutting out awkwardly in front of him. His face was covered in sweat, his lips white.   
“I’m okay,” he muttered.  
“Yeah,” Sam huffed, “I gotta take a look at it.”  
“No, Sam,” Dean shook his head, “Leave it alone.”  
“Dean, let me see,” Sam pleaded.   
Dean leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his head in his hand, swallowing, resigned.   
Sam tugged at the leg of his jeans and sighed, “Mom, could you grab some scissors?” He glanced up at Dean, “Sorry, I’m gonna have to cut these ones too.”  
Dean huffed a weak laugh, “I’m gonna have to take a trip to Target later.”  
Sam laughed, patting his brother’s good leg comfortingly.   
“How do you feel?” Sam asked, face screwed up in sympathy, staring up at Dean.   
Dean groaned, “Like my leg’s on fire.”  
“Here, Sam,” Mary was back, handing Sam a big pair of scissors.   
“Thanks.”  
Sam cut the pant leg straight up the centre until he got half way up the thigh.   
“What did Ketch do to you?” Sam gritted his teeth, seeing the swelling had gotten ten times worse.   
“He saw a weakness and went for it,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.   
Sam pursed his lips and began unwrapping the bandage. Every layer was stuck to the next, blood and yellow ooze sticking it in place.   
“ _Mmmm,_ ” Dean moaned, clenching his fists.  
“Sorry…” The bandage was stuck to the wound. Sam could hardly peel it off.   
Mary crouched next to him and Sam looked at her, eyes widening slightly. The edges of the wound were swollen and red. There was ooze and yellowy puss mixed with blood all over, and if Sam peeled it back a bit further he could see bone.  
“How’s it look?” Dean asked, rubbing his forehead.   
Sam swallowed and he and Mary shared another look.   
“Uh, it’s fine… Looks okay…”  
Dean cracked one eye open and smirked, “You’re a terrible liar.”  
Sam sighed, face tight, “Umm…” he tried to peel more of the bandage back and Dean blanched, gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles.  
“Sorry, man… I, uh…” he looked at Mary.  
“We’ll fix it up, Dean,” she nodded, “It’s gonna be okay.”  
“And as soon as we find Cas he can heal you.”  
Dean swallowed, “Yeah…”  
“Did you take some painkillers?” Sam asked.  
Dean shrugged, “Yeah.”  
“Dean,” Sam pulled a hand down his face, “I have to get this bandage off but it’s stuck on there good, okay? It’s gonna hurt.”  
Dean nodded, “Do it.”  
Sam pulled the bandage completely off and Dean let out a yell, one hand finding and gripping his hair, the other still firmly on the chair.   
Mary handed Dean a bottle of whiskey and rubbed a hand back and forth across his shoulders.   
“Reckon you could stitch it up?” Dean asked, and there was actually some hope in his voice.  
Sam looked back down at his brother’s knee. There was nothing to stitch. The wound was so wide and so deep. Dean needed a hospital, or an angel.   
“I’ll do what I can.”  
Dean nodded, face looking a bit flushed as he sipped at the whiskey.   
Sam and Mary must have noticed at the same time, as Mary put a hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean leaned into her.  
“Honey, you’re burning up.”  
“I’m fine,” Dean muttered, coughing a little at the sting of the whiskey.   
Sam was sweating, his anxiety making him damp around the collar. He was nervous. They’d never been hurt like this before. Simple gashes they could sew up, bullets they could dig out, but this… Dean’s bones were showing, there was so much ooze and redness and swelling, it was obviously infected, probably still had bits of cement in it.  
“Sam,” Mary called, a seriousness in her eyes, “What do you need?”  
“Uh…” Sam took a breath, getting himself together, “I need antiseptic, lots of it. It needs to be washed out. And then I can… I can patch it… bandage it. But it’s not gonna be a permanent solution.”  
“I’m not going to hospital so whatever you gotta do, do it now,” Dean groaned.  
“Okay.”  
  
…  
  
While Sam was halfway through cleaning and dressing the knee, Dean leaned over the side of the chair and vomited on the floor. He was white from the pain. Oh, and maybe concussed from the look of the wounds on his face. Ketch was a son of a bitch, and he was lucky he was already dead or Sam would have killed him much, _much_  slower.   
“Sam… I gotta… Stop for a sec, please…”   
Sam stopped his ministrations, sitting back on his heels looking up at Dean.  
“Need’a… need a break,” Dean was panting, sweating buckets.   
“Sorry,” Sam said sincerely.   
Mary came back from the kitchen with a bucket of cold water and a rag.   
She pulled up a chair next to Dean.  
“How you feeling?” she asked softly, wiping the cool cloth over his face.   
“I’m… kinda runnin’ outta steam here,” he said with a smirk, looking worn and defeated.   
“Mom, could you find any stronger painkillers?”   
“Not in my kit, and all the ones you boys had have expired. Dean’s already taken the Vicodin.”  
“How old were the Percocet?” Sam asked.  
“A couple of years.”  
Sam sighed, “They should still work. He needs something.”  
Dean grumbled, announcing his interruption, “Guys… I don’t know if… ‘m gonna be able to,” he gestured to his stomach, “keep anything down.”  
“Dean, you have to try. We just need to get the pain to ease off a bit…”  
Dean swallowed, paled, and nodded.  
“Did we have any antibiotics?”   
“Yeah, I think I saw a box in there.”  
“We’re gonna need those too.”  
“Sam, maybe we should move him to the bed,” Mary suggested, hand running through Dean’s hair.   
Dean lowered his head, breathing fast and shallow.   
Sam pursed his lips. He did want to get Dean lying down, weight off his leg, but they were going to be hard pressed moving him now.  
“Painkillers,” he said, resolutely, “Painkillers, first.”  
  
…  
  
After Mary fed Dean the pills and Sam levelled him with a stare that was reserved for their very worst of health/injury problems.  
“Now, just keep those down for a half hour, okay?”  
Dean made the okay symbol with his fingers, lips pressed together tightly, and then went back to white knuckling the arms of the chair.   
Sam cleaned out, and scraped off as much dead tissue as he could, pouring a whole bottle of antiseptic into the wound. He used sterile gauze and salt water to pack it, covering it with three big dressings and bandaging them down tight, noting the spread of angry red lines tracking up towards his brother’s groin. They splinted it with bits of the broken table, because aside from the wound it looked like Ketch had done his best to dislocate it.  
Dean was done. He couldn’t even push himself up to stand. Mary helped Sam get him into a position he could hoist him up from, and she supported the injured leg as Sam carried him down the hall to his bedroom.  
Mary removed his boots and set a fan up to point on him, washcloth on his brow. Dean seemed to fall asleep quickly and Sam pulled Mary out into the hall.  
“Sam, what is it?”  
“Mom, we need to find Cas and Kelly.”   
“We will,” she nodded.  
Sam flapped a hand towards Dean, exasperatedly, “No, you don't understand, an infection like that… it’s going to kill him… or he’ll lose his leg at the very least.”  
Mary swallowed, “We’re going to find him. In the meantime, those antibiotics –“  
“Those antibiotics are like using a water pistol to put out a fire… It might,” Sam sighed, “It might buy us some time.”   
Mary looked towards Dean, “Then we better get to work.”  
  
**End.**


End file.
